


Dog Day Afternoon

by Dbaw3



Series: Focal Point [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bestiality, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Multi, Other, Parent/Child Incest, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Werewolves are kinky, stiles is pack bitch, stilinskicest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 21:18:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17149244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dbaw3/pseuds/Dbaw3
Summary: “You know how you said you’d go along with my position as Pack Bitch, as long as I didn’t get hurt and you didn’t have to hide anything illegal?” Stiles started, still pacing.“Yes,” John said slowly, suddenly nervous himself.“How married are you to the not-illegal part of that?” Stiles asked with what he probably thought was a charming smile.aka Focal Point: Derek





	Dog Day Afternoon

John held the leash of the german shepherd tightly, not willing yet to release the dog, as Stiles shifted nervously in front of him, naked and bent over the ottoman in their living room. John felt his own hard dick twitch in his pants, even as he wondered yet again how his life had come to this.

Stiles had approached him a week before, nervously pacing and chewing on his thumb.

“You know how you said you’d go along with my position as Pack Bitch, as long as I didn’t get hurt and you didn’t have to hide anything illegal?” Stiles started, still pacing.

“Yes,” John said slowly, suddenly nervous himself.

“How married are you to the not-illegal part of that?” Stiles asked with what he probably thought was a charming smile.

The headache behind his eyes which he had labeled just for Stiles suddenly throbbed, and he rubbed his eyes. “Stiles…” he said, not so patiently.

Stiles had sighed then, and laid it out. “I have to tell you some things about Derek,” he began, sitting down and very serious. “And I want you to know that he told me to tell you, so you’d understand.” Then Stiles took a deep breath and started to talk.

What followed was a more than slightly disturbing history of Derek and multiple “girlfriends,” which led into Stiles explaining that Derek was impotent.

“I thought he and that ‘marshal’ a couple of years ago…,” John started to say, but Stiles interrupted him.

“He’s very…oral,” Stiles said by way of explanation, with a slightly faraway expression.

John resisted the urge to snort. It would have been difficult to not know that about Derek. As much as he’d wondered why, unlike the rest of the Pack, Derek never seemed to fuck Stiles, he’d been witness to more than enough of Derek eating out Stiles after one or more of the others had finished using him—or just seeing Derek emerge from Stiles’ room, face content and shiny with the combined juices of his Pack. 

“I assume the illegal part is coming up,” John prodded.

“Um, yeah,” Stiles continued, and chewed on his lip more. “So, you know how he can do the full shift?” 

John nodded slowly, starting to have an inkling of where he was coming from, and not liking it one bit.

“Apparently, it’s only his human form that’s impotent,” Stiles said cheerfully, if slightly nervously.

John would have liked to say he hadn’t freaked out. But not so much.

When Stiles got him to calm down, he explained that he hadn’t done anything with him yet. Partly because while Derek obviously wanted to try this out, he didn’t want to actually surprise the Sheriff by having him walk in on him and Stiles together like that. John appreciated that Stiles phrased it in such a way that made it sound as if he was being solicitous of John’s feelings, which was possible—Derek was deferential to only two people, as far as John knew: him, as Stiles’ father, and Scott, as his Alpha. But he also assumed Derek—and Stiles—were fully aware that John unknowingly walking in on his son being fucked by a giant dog would likely not end well, physically, for anyone.

Then Stiles hesitated again. “And… Dad, Derek’s a good guy. He can be an asshole, but his life kind of prepped him for that. I just think he deserves to have something nice, now and then,” he finally said.

“Nice,” John repeated, slightly incredulous. “This isn’t baking him a cake, Stiles.” John waved off Stiles trying to interrupt him with a new argument, and sighed. “Okay, fine. Thanks for letting me know. I guess,” John said, moving to stand up and go off to ponder the strange, kinky fairy tale that was his life.

“Well, there’s just one little thing,” Stiles said, back to being nervous again.

John froze and then sank back into his chair. “Yes,” he said without inflection.

Stiles laughed nervously. “I don’t want to fuck this up,” he said honestly. “And I’m afraid if we start and I freak out… Dad, I can’t be the one to mess this up for Derek. He’s had that enough,” Stiles finished, looking at the ground.

“Okay,” John said, waiting for the other shoe to drop, and still being afraid of where this might be going.

Stiles pasted on another fake cheerful smile. “How do you feel about helping me break into the K9 unit for…practice?” he asked.

John was pretty sure that conversation sounded better in Stiles’ head than it did out-loud. At least he hoped so.

What followed was a week of intense research online for Stiles (“Since when is watching bestiality porn research?”), and “discussion” and “debate” on the best way for Stiles going about a “test run” as he called it. John had shut down the idea of it being one of the K9 unit dogs almost immediately: there was too much surveillance around their area, and the comings and going too tightly recorded for him to be able to sneak one of them out. He also nixed the idea of using a random stray as too dangerous for Stiles. 

Which hadn’t stopped Stiles from apparently giving it a try, since John had gotten home one day to find Stiles on the kitchen floor trying to coax a mutt of indeterminate parentage and origin to start licking his asshole. The dog, however, simply seemed perplexed as to what Stiles was doing on the floor, much to John’s relief.

Stiles’ interim idea of preparing for his test run, however, was to request that as many fucks as possible be doggy style, an idea which seemed to bother absolutely no one. Peter, especially, seemed to relish using the word “bitch” more than usual, as he fucked Stiles on the floor, “where bitches should be fucked,” as he put it.

(That John found himself calling his son a “pretty bitch” more than once would have made him feel ashamed as he draped himself across Stiles’ back, if Stiles hadn’t squeezed even more tightly than normal on his dick whenever he said it.)

Derek, meanwhile, seemed to not be in any particular hurry, as far as John could see. He honestly seemed content to watch with hunger as the rest of the Pack fucked Stiles with more and more vigor, then dive face first into his ass to get anything they left behind. And Stiles was certainly enjoying it, though he would sometimes, John thought, look a little wistfully at Derek, when he thought no one was looking.

Then, a bit of serendipity: one of the deputies at the station, one who happened to have a german shepherd named Buddy, had to go out of town and needed a dogsitter. 

John found himself volunteering without really thinking about it.

Which is how they’d found themselves here, Stiles naked and nervously draped over an ottoman in their living room, and John holding the leash of a dog he was about to assist in the breeding of his son.

John’s cock twitched again.

(Stiles had made the rare demand the night before that none of the Pack were allowed to come to his house for what he had dubbed Dog Day Afternoon, not wanting either encouragement or “advice” from an audience for this first time. This elicited some moans of complaint from certain quarters until Scott had done his best low-level Alpha growl and stated firmly that if Stiles said no one could fuck him or come by, then no one would. The others had quickly subsided and left the house after the meeting, at which point Scott had rather sheepishly asked if he could have one last fuck “Just to tide me over!” as he put it. Stiles had rolled his eyes affectionately, but bent over the arm of the couch and lifted the back of the utilikilt he’d started to wear for ease of access for the Pack. Scott, his own brand of puppy to the last, happily moved behind him, unzipping his pants, and calling out to Kira he would be with her in just a few minutes.)

The shepherd whined and strained slightly against the lead as he stared intently at Stiles. Having learned his lesson with the stray, Stiles had asked Scott to pick up something from Deaton’s which might make the dog more interested. Scott had returned with a small vial of bitch’s urine, which would make Stiles smell like he was in heat. (Jackson’s snorted comment of, “Stilinski always smells like a bitch in heat,” was met with slaps from both Derek and Scott, but also a slightly embarrassed, “He’s not wrong, though,” comment from Scott later. Something John felt he should ask more about that at some point.)

“It’s okay, boy,” John tried to soothe the dog, taking a step closer to his son as Buddy whined again. He noted that the tip of the dog’s pink cock had started to peak out of its sheathe. “You want a taste of the bitch? Go ahead, boy,” he said, letting the dog have a little more freedom with his leash, but not letting go.

Stiles gave a little yelp, as the dog enthusiastically started to lick at his ass, but settled down quickly, moaning through his gag. 

(The gag had been Stiles’ idea, probably meant as a joke, but deciding to take it further, as he so often did, after he’d mentioned it a few nights before to John as they laid together, post-orgasm. John could only assume it went from a joke about keeping him muzzled to a serious addition when Stiles felt his dad’s dick, still embedded and “soaking” inside of him, give a twitch of interest.)

John realized, as he let the dog lick into his son’s ass vigorously, his cock falling from its sheathe and dripping pre-cum all over the floor, feeling his own cock throb in his pants as he watched, that his sense of shame was long since gone. He never argued the legality or morality of letting Stiles fuck a dog so he could get his werewolf boyfriend to fuck him in wolf form, just like the rest of the Pack, he only questioned the practicalities of where and how to arrange it. Whatever moral high ground he once had was well and truly in his rearview mirror.

Fuck it.

“There you go, boy,” John said, “that bitch pussy is nice and tasty, isn’t it?”

Stiles whimpered again and bounced his ass back to meet the energetic tongue trying to burrow its way into his hole.

“Yeah, that’s it,” John said, reaching down with his free hand to unzip his own pants and free his cock, though he didn’t stroke it, not yet. While he’d been fairly certain Stiles would not, as he’d worried, “freak out” when he was covered by the dog, it was still an unknown how the dog would react. John had done enough “research” of his own to know that when the dog knotted with Stiles—and John was going to be damned sure the dog knotted with him, as they’d discussed—that things could go horribly wrong if the stud decided he was done with his bitch too early. John might have abandoned morality, but he wasn’t quite prepared to abandon his son, not if there was the slightest hint that he could really be hurt.

A little discomfort, however, he was more than okay with.

“Yeah, I think your bitch is ready for you, Buddy,” John said as the dog pulled back, dancing around as his erection waved underneath him, bobbing obscenely. “You ready to cover your bitch? I think your bitch is ready to be bred. Isn’t that right?”

Stiles whimpered again, and raised his ass slightly, as if pleading for the dog to breed him.

John was happy to help. “Okay, boy, up you go,” he said, as he patted Stiles’ back. Buddy obligingly mounted Stiles, thrusting his hips in an attempt to sink his cock into the welcoming hole.

Stiles, obviously frustrated after a moment, started to reach back a hand to guide in the dog cock currently being thrust into the meat of his ass, but John batted his hand away. Stiles looked up at his dad in obvious surprise, but John said sternly, “Bitches don’t have hands. Keep them down.”

Stiles growled at him, which seemed to unfortunately strike the already frustrated Buddy as aggressive, who growled at his bitch as if trying to get her to behave. Stiles dropped his head back down submissively, and Buddy jumped down.

Buddy paced around, as much as John’s grip on his leash allowed him, and nipped at Stiles’ ass. Stiles startled and looked back.

“I think your stud wants you to spread your back legs,” John pointed out helpfully, and allowed himself a strong stroke on his erection. “Give him better access to your hole.”

Stiles spread his legs and Buddy hopped back over his back, starting to hump the air in hopes of finding access to his bitch.

This time, he had better luck, as the tip of his cock found the rim of Stiles’s hole, and in a blink, the dog had half of his sizable cock buried in his bitch. The bitch in question whined high in his throat, but attempted to stay still, allowing his stud to set the pace.

The stud’s pace was fast, as he rabbited his hips strongly into Stiles, pushing against his bitch’s ass so that he bounced against the ottoman. Stiles whimpered in pleasure, and tried to brace himself pushing back into the dog’s thrusts.

“That’s it, Buddy,” John said again. “Breed that bitch. Fill her up with puppies. Bet she’ll look good with your pups hanging off her tits.”

Stiles whimpered again, but it came out kind of undulating, as Buddy’s thrusts got even faster. John couldn’t help laughing a little, even as he allowed himself a couple more strokes of his cock. 

John was very aware that the dog was trying to knot, as his thrusts became more frantic.

“Okay, Stiles, lift yourself up and bear down. You should be getting his knot really soon,” he said, watching where the dog was thrusting into his son. A part of him wish he’d grabbed his videocamera, as disastrous an idea that would have been. But if your son taking his first dog knot wasn’t a milestone, he didn’t know what was. (Not his first knot, though. Scott had been pleased when Stiles first took his knot, since Kira was not prepared to let him sink that gigantic knob at the end of his dick into her. John couldn’t say he blamed her; the only reason Stiles’ hole wasn’t permanently wrecked was the spell they’d initially cast on him when he became Pack Bitch, John was sure.)

Fortunately, Buddy’s dick and knot were nowhere as big as Scott’s. Stiles grunted as Buddy yelped and stopped moving his hips, as they finally tied. Stiles panted behind his gag as Buddy settled down on his back for a moment, panting through his own slow come as he bred the bitch below him.

“Fuck,” John said, as he squeezed down on his dick again. He waited a few minutes, somewhat impatiently, until Buddy started to shift around restlessly, obviously wanting to turn. John helped him dismount from Stiles’ back and move until he and Stiles were ass to ass, joined only by his still spewing cock. At that point, Buddy seemed content to stand and wait out the tie from there.

Stiles had whimpered while this was being done, but when John removed his “muzzle,” he croaked out “Daddy,” quietly.

“Oh, baby,” John said, rubbing his throbbing cock against Stiles’ face, even while keeping an eye on the dog to make sure he didn’t try to move away before his knot was shrunk completely. “You were such a good bitch for Buddy, such a good girl,” he said, even as Stiles tried to lick at John’s weeping cock. 

“Yes, Daddy,” Stiles said again, trying to catch John’s dick with his mouth, turning his head to follow it like a baby bird looking to be fed.

Who was John to deny his son?

“That’s right,” John continued as he fed his entire length into Stiles’ mouth in one slow thrust, “my pretty little bitch. And you’re going to be an even better bitch for Derek, aren’t you?” 

Stiles gurgled happily around his father’s dick, as John long-dicked in and out of his throat. 

“Such a good, pretty bitch. We’re all so lucky to have you. Fuck,” John praised, even as he felt his own orgasm rushing forward. A few more thrusts and he buried his dick into Stile’s throat until Stiles’ nose was smashed into his pubes, and held him there. He didn’t pull back until Stiles tapped his thigh for breath, then John did it slowly and reluctantly.

He didn’t have much chance to enjoy Stiles’ further attempts to clean up John with licks against his dick when Buddy started getting restless again. John, still recovering his breath, tried to get up quickly, as Buddy tried to pull free, succeeding only in pulling Stiles off the ottoman, as he scrambled to keep the dog from ripping his hole open.

John got him settled for a few more minutes, and looked at the sweaty, panting, and obviously happy mess his son was, and the puddle of semen he’d left on their ottoman. “Think you’re ready for the big boys?” John asked amused, as he petted Buddy to keep him calm.

Stiles looked at him over his shoulder and smiled. John could see him squeeze his ass around Buddy’s knot, as if trying to coax another go around from the dog. “Oh, yeah.”

*

John assumed, for their first time, Stiles would go over to Derek’s loft, and he’d maybe see his son in a day or two, looking worn out but happy. When Derek showed up the following night, looking excited and nervous, he found out differently.

“I don’t know how the wolf will react,” Derek said bluntly. 

“Stiles will be safe, right?” John asked, genuinely worried for one of the few times since this started.

“I would never hurt Stiles,” Derek said quickly, “and the wolf won’t, either. But it’s..never done this before.” Derek looked like he was willing himself not to blush, which seemed to involve glaring at nothing. “I’d just feel better if you were here. Just in case.”

John sighed and nodded, and settled himself into his favorite chair to watch. It wasn’t as if it was a hardship to watch Stiles get fucked, and this was something new, so the shine on the kink was still on it. But there was something different to Derek and Stiles’ relationship, something that seemed more intimate.

John and Derek both turned as they heard Stiles come down the stairs. When he came into the living room, not unusually, he was completely naked. It was a sight they’d both seen many, many times before—seeing Stiles clothed these days was more unusual than not—but he gave Derek a soft, shy smile that John hadn’t seen on his son for years, and he swallowed as the two looked at each other.

Derek, not taking his eyes off of Stiles, started to strip off his own clothing. John could admire Derek’s physique, but it was purely aesthetic. He was too large, too bulky, too dissimilar to Stiles for John to be remotely turned on by him. 

Stiles obviously didn’t feel the same, since he was already erect and dripping with wet, his eyes glued to every new bit of Derek revealed as he dropped his clothing.

“Down,” John heard Derek say roughly, and looked over at Derek, now completely naked and obviously excited, but mostly soft. “I’ll want you on your knees.”

John could see Stiles fight with himself over making a snarky comment, but rather than say anything, he just swallowed and knelt.

Derek took a deep breath and John kept his eyes deliberately on Stiles, not wanting to see this next part. It wasn’t that Derek’s transformation was particularly painful, but it was…weird. John found it disturbing to watch Derek go from his human form to his wolf form, and nothing Stiles could say about it could make him think different. 

And Stiles, again, obviously did think differently, as John watched him watch Derek transform, and he could see by the way his eyes widened and his breath got shorter—and, yes, his cock bobbed—that Stiles did find it fascinating and amazing. When Stiles licked his lips nervously, and John heard a gentle woof, John thought it was safe to turn back and look at Derek again.

Derek’s wolf was, frankly, huge. If John was standing, the wolf’s head would likely have come to about mid-chest on him. He worried, not for the first time, what something like that would do to his son. Which still didn’t stop his dick from twitching.

The big black wolf walked slowly towards Stiles, then circled around him. Stiles stayed perfectly still on his hands and knees, waiting for…something, John wasn’t sure what. The wolf sniffed all along Stiles’ skin, licking occasionally, before ducking his head underneath to lap at Stiles’ leaking cock. Stiles whimpered, but did not move from his position.

Pulling back, the wolf circled around to Stiles’ face again, and licked it several times, whining happily.

“Derek,” Stiles said, scrunching up his face, but not turning away. 

The wolf stopped and seemed to just be looking at Stiles for a second before raising one paw to put on the back of Stiles’ head.

“I think he wants you to lower your head. In submission,” John said quietly, rubbing himself through his slacks.

The wolf grumbled as if in agreement, and Stiles looked at him for another moment, as if he was going to argue, but then lowered his head, raising his ass at the same time. 

Satisfied, the wolf walked back around and–

“Whoa,” John couldn’t help saying out-loud, seeing for the first time the unsheathed dick hanging from below the wolf and, wow, proportional. He’d be worried about Stiles being able to take it all, if it weren’t for some of the toys he’d seen Stiles take, without hesitation or harm. 

The wolf looked back at him, and if a wolf could look smug, Derek managed it.

The moment didn’t last for long: Derek soon had his nose buried in Stiles’ ass and was lapping away at his hole intently.

“Fuck, Derek,” Stiles said, then yipped when the wolf nipped at his asscheek. “What the–” Stiles started and cut himself off again when the wolf nipped at his ass again.

“I don’t think he wants you to talk,” John said, and the wolf “Hmph"ed in agreement. Stiles muttered about Derek not minding before, but dropped his head and restrained himself from saying anything further aside from whimpers and whines.

John unzipped his pants and pulled his own cock into the air as he watched the wolf continue to eat out his son’s ass with vigor. After a couple of minutes, however, during which Stiles continued to whimper, the wolf lowered his muzzle slightly and nipped gently at Stiles’ balls, making him yip. Then he nudged between his thighs.

"I think he wants you to spread your legs,” John instructed, stroking his cock gently while watching the wolf calmly, firmly dominate Stiles. The wolf whumped in agreement.

Stiles moved forward on his hands and knees, presumably towards the ottoman so he could drape himself over it, but the wolf growled, and again nipped at his balls until Stiles froze.

“Stay,” John said to Stiles, squeezing his cock. “He wants you to hold for him, just like a good bitch.” The wolf again made a sound of agreement, while glancing briefly at John in apparently thanks, then went back to nudging Stiles’ legs apart. 

John had long since stopped worrying about Stiles, as he stroked his cock. It was obvious Derek was still in there, inside the wolf, and in control, just enjoying this new ability to dominate Stiles. It was also obvious that Stiles was enjoying being dominated, his cock bouncing and leaking below him in a steady stream.

When the wolf covered Stiles, it was less a matter of him jumping onto Stiles’ back than walking over him to stand above him. Fuck, John thought and squeezed himself, the wolf was huge. John could barely see Stiles, the wolf enveloped him so thoroughly, hips already starting to move as he tried to get his cock into Stiles.

Stiles whimpered, and began to move a hand back to guide the wolf’s cock, but the wolf growled and clamped his jaws to the back of Stiles’ neck, making him freeze. 

Noting that the wolf was simply holding him in place and not trying to bite down, John said, “He wants you to stay in place. Be a good bitch, son, and stay in place.” Stiles whimpered in acknowledgment and dropped his head in submission, and the wolf released his grip on Stiles’ neck, but began moving his hips again.

John caught glimpses of that gigantic wolf cock below the creature as the wolf tried different angles to enter his bitch. It had grown even larger than when he’d last seen it, and John began to wonder if Stiles could take something so large.

They’d find out soon enough, he realized, as Stiles grunted and whimpered as the wolf finally found his mark and thrust forward dramatically. John could tell he wasn’t fully seated yet, but the wolf’s hips started to thrust faster and faster,even as he went deeper inside Stiles, while Stiles whimpered and moaned in obvious excitement. 

“Der—” Stiles started to speak again, but soon trailed off as the wolf growled again, never stopping his thrusts. 

“Bitches don’t talk,” John reminded Stiles again, who whimpered, the sound juddering out of him as the large wolf thrust in and out moving him back and forth across the floor with the motions. John couldn’t imagine how it must feel to Stiles, this beast uncaring of Stiles’ comfort, pushing towards its own climax, its own ends. But Stiles obviously enjoyed it, too, John noted, even as he squeezed his own erection more tightly, trying to maintain a grip on the floor so he could push back against the wolf’s thrusts, try to get more of that animal cock inside of him.

“Fuck,” John muttered to himself as he tried to lean down to get a better look at where the two were joined. He did finally see the knot at the end of the wolf’s cock, and almost gasped, even as the wolf gave a particularly hard thrust, moving Stiles several inches across the floor, as he tried to bury the knot inside of his bitch.

“That’s huge,” John said as much to himself as to Stiles, who merely whimpered again. Fuck, was it. If the cock was large, the knot was more than proportional, looking to John about the size of his fist. John squeeze his own cock to keep himself from coming too soon. 

“Can you feel it, bitch?” John asked Stiles gently, even as Stiles whined and pushed back. “Can you feel that knot banging against your cunt wanting in? Your stud wants to tie you, wants to fill you with pups. You want that, don’t you?” he asked.

Stiles actually yelled, in pain as well as pleasure, when the knot went part way in, but seemed to be stuck, not moving in or out for a moment. Fortunately, the two had moved closer to the doorway during their mating (“Breeding,” John thought to himself, and squeezed his cock again), and Stiles rather desperately gripped the wall to brace himself against it for Derek to thrust.

“That’s it, baby,” John said, panting in time now to Stiles’ whines and whimpers, “be good and take your stud all the way.”

On John’s last word, Stiles and the wolf both howled as the wolf finally seated his knot fully into Stiles. 

John was briefly distracted from his own orgasm with slight worry, as Stiles appeared to pass out. In face, when John looked beneath the wolf, he noted, even as the wolf’s thrusts began to lessen now that the long process of its own coming finally began, that Stiles’ knees were no longer even touching the floor, his body suspend under the giant animal by its cock and knot. Stiles body appeared to bob without resistance in midair. 

John started to rise, not sure what he could even do if Stiles was actually hurt, when Stiles seemed to regain consciousness, whimpering more even as he hung still from his stud’s knot, reaching back to pet him.

“Good boy,” Stiles said dreamily, as if to a dog, and while the wolf growled lightly, it licked the back of Stiles’ shoulders and neck affectionately before starting to move restlessly, until it managed to swing one leg over Stiles’ back until they were ass to ass. 

“Jesus fuck, Derek,” Stiles gasped, panting. John noticed again, now that the animal wasn’t cover his son that Stiles’ cock was still semi-hard, even with the pool of semen Stiles appeared to leave on the floor below them. He knew it wasn’t the wolf’s, as nothing appeared to be escaping Stiles’ tightly locked cunt.

“Fuck,” John said through his teeth, rubbing and shifting again, wishing he felt brave enough—and his knees strong enough—to go over and shove his cock into Stiles’ mouth. God, he wanted to facefuck his son so badly it hurt, and he needed just a little bit more…

He opened his eyes, which he hadn’t realized he’d closed, when Stiles whimpered again, to see the wolf take careful couple of steps forward, standing up straight enough that Stiles’ knees had no hope of touching the floor again soon. Behind him, Stiles scrambled not to lose their connection too painfully or too soon, his hands trying to keep him balanced enough not to fall face first onto the floor.

It soon became apparent where the wolf was taking him, though, as he maneuvered himself and his bitch so that Stiles was now directly in front of John close enough to bend down and take John into his mouth if he wanted.

John reached down and petted Stiles’ sweat-damp hair, even as he looked back at the wolf. The wolf, still panting as he unloaded his sperm into Stiles, looked back at him and nodded his head, as if giving John permission to use his bitch.

John looked down at Stiles, also whimpering between his own pants as he tried to get his breath, but obviously recovering, as a bright smile of happiness—with just a touch of his normal smirk John was used to seeing when his son got his way—appeared on his face.

“Daddy,” Stiles started to say, licking out at John’s dribbling cock, even as John petted his hair.

“Shh, Stiles,” John said before grasping his hair in a firmer grip. “Bitches don’t talk,” he reminded him, then slammed his cock in the full length into Stiles’ throat.

*

John had thought, maybe, after Stiles and Derek had finally managed to consummate their relationship—in however strange a fashion—things might have changed. With Derek calling Stiles his mate and all, he figured mate somehow trumped Pack Bitch. 

He couldn’t have been more wrong.

Isaac still stopped by to use Stiles as often as he could, the others still bent Stiles over any flat surface whenever they seemed to feel like it, and John still woke up with Stiles bouncing happily on top of his morning erection.

Now, though, more often than not he came home to the sight of his only son being fucked by a big black wolf all over the house and backyard. And he did mean all over: kitchen, living room, hallways, bedrooms. He didn’t think there was a space in the house they hadn’t fucked. He’d objected, for safety reasons, the one time he came across them fucking on the stairs, Stiles bracing himself against the vigorous thrusts of the wolf, but he really only complained when they were in the midst of mating right in a doorway, and he couldn’t get past them.

There was also the fact that wolf!Derek seemed to have a new favorite pasttime: dragging Stiles, post-coital and still connected by Derek’s knot, from room to room backwards, as if showing off his bitch for all to see. It amused the Pack, John included, though Stiles seemed less amused, and normally “complained” loudly (not real complaints, no sign of his safeword, just normal bitching, as it were) until someone got his muzzle back on him or shut him up by shoving their dick in his mouth. 

(They all learned quickly that, as much as person!Derek didn’t mind the others using Stiles in any and all ways, wolf!Derek did not care for anyone else to be touching Stiles while he was being fucked. If anyone got too close in the middle of Derek mating Stiles, they were quickly snarled at, teeth at the ready. The only exceptions were Scott and John, who were allowed to share Stiles, once Derek was properly tied to him.)

About a month after the first time, Stiles started wearing a dog collar with tags whenever Derek fucked him. Derek grumbled and Stiles laughed, but it wasn’t until John found the collar on his son’s dresser he understood: one tag said “Derek’s Bitch” in big, bold letters. John figured, like all things between Stiles and Derek, it was half-tease, half-serious.

Then one day, Derek showed up in human form for a Pack gathering and tossed Stiles a necklace before sitting down. Stiles did an “Aw, Derek, you shouldn’t have,” but when he looked at the necklace more closely, which had a couple of tags similar to what was on his collar, his expression softened and he actually got sniffly as he put the necklace on. When the others demanded to know what was going on, Stiles told them to shut up, and demanded whoever needed to piss should come over where he was right now, because being Pack Bitch to this bunch of failwolves was thirsty work.

A short line formed in front of Stiles in his chair, and Parrish petted Stiles’ hair, even as he closed his eyes in obvious relief.

“You know,” Parrish said as he finished pissing, as much to himself as Stiles or John behind him, “I’ve always wanted a dog.” When he tapped his emptied dick against Stiles’ lips to get the last few drops of piss off before walking away, John noticed Stiles’ speculative look.

When John took his turn, pulling his soft cock out of his pants to insert it in his son’s mouth before relieving himself, he reached down to the long chain around Stiles’ neck and looked at the two tags there. One was a red metal bone which said “McCall Pack Bitch” on one side and a “If found, please return to” message on the other. The other was a simple blue disc that said “Stiles” on one side and “Derek’s Mate” on the other.

John looked into Stiles’ face, which appeared to be smiling even as he swallowed around John’s cock, and reached down to ruffle his son’s hair.

Whatever made him happy.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to Tumblr.


End file.
